Rich and evocative of the forest, dried mushrooms will work their magic in everything from a rich ragout to a nourishing broth. Perfect for these dark days
If ever there was magic in my kitchen cupboard it is in the jar of dried mushrooms, porcini or perhaps tiny chanterelles; the jar that sees light of day less often than it should. No ingredient could look less promising and yet, when brought to life by a 10-minute soak in warm water, those little funghi have much to offer.
Slices of dried porcini are expensive. You can expect to pay about £3 for a 30g jar. But they are as light as a feather, and you need only a few to produce a broth that is deep, rich and intense. Quicker and less salty than most dried bouillons, the clear stock they produce is the very essence of the forest floor. A glowing bronze liquor that can be used in a risotto with thyme and butter, or as a pure, bright soup, whose amber depths will nourish us on a frosty night.
I keep a jar of porcini in the house for adding to workaday chestnut mushrooms, lending a woodsy character. They need about 10 minutes to rehydrate in warm or boiling water. A little longer if you use cold. A pinch will add weight to a chicken stock or charm to a mushroom tart or ragout. The other day I made a deep and rich mushroom stock with porcini and chanterelles, using the slices of dried porcini for backbone and adding the delicate chanterelles towards the end. I finished it with a herb oil, little emerald-green pools of olive oil and dill.
Occasionally, I use dried mushrooms on their own, as stars in their own right. Or I make the aforementioned risotto, but with a little taleggio or a spoonful of Vacherin stirred in. It's a mistake to make a risotto with only mushroom stock – it needs some chicken in there, too, for the correct consistency and to tame the powerful porcini.
A few pieces of dried mushroom are probably at their most useful when commandeered to beef up anything in which you have used the fresh variety. They are also a source of treasure when tucked into a pork, chicken or beef stew, working with the vegetables and aromatics to give a mysterious and elusive backnote. But that is what they do, these quiet, unassuming little ingredients. Sitting at the back of the cupboard, waiting for someone to release to their magic.
*Dried mushroom broth with herb oil
*
You can make this clear, warming soup with porcini pieces alone. I added chanterelles, too, but they are not essential.
Serves 2-3
*dried porcini* 20g
*dried chanterelles* 15g
*warm water* 1 litre
*shallots* 3
*olive oil* a generous 100ml
*dill* a good handful
*rye bread* to serve
Put the dried mushrooms into small bowls, keeping them separate, and divide the warm water equally between them.
Peel and roughly chop the shallots. Warm a little of the oil in a large deep pan, add the shallots and cook them over a moderate heat for 10-15 minutes until they are soft and pale gold.
Add the mushrooms and their water to the pan and bring to the boil. Lower the heat and let the mushrooms and onions simmer for 15-20 minutes.
Pour the rest of the olive oil into a blender or food processor, add the dill and process for a few seconds until you have a brilliant green oil. Season the soup with salt and pepper and ladle into deep bowls. Pour a trickle of the oil over the surface of the soup. Serve with the rye bread.
*Mushroom ragout and root vegetable pappardelle
*
You could use celeriac or kohlrabi instead of the parsnip if you wish – the point is to have a tangle of sweet and earthy roots to accompany the mushrooms. You could use pasta instead. A wide one like pappardelle will be most suitable. The amount of mascarpone is up to you. I didn't want anything too creamy, so just used a couple of spoonfuls. You could use double cream if you prefer.
Serves 2
*dried chanterelles* 15g
*field mushrooms* 4, medium sized
*chestnut mushrooms* 4
*garlic *1 clove
*olive oil* 5 tbsp
*thyme* about 8 small sprigs
*mascarpone* 2 heaped tbsp
For the vegetable pappardelle:
*carrots* 2 large
*parsnips* 2 large
*butter* 40g
*parsley* 2 tbsp, finely chopped
Put the dried mushrooms into a bowl, pour enough boiling warm water over them to cover and leave for 10 minutes, until rehydrated.
Cut the field mushrooms into small cubes and the chestnut mushrooms into slices or quarters. Peel and crush the garlic. Warm the oil in a casserole, add the garlic and then, as it begins to soften, the field mushrooms. Let them cook over a moderate heat for about 10 minutes, until they are dark and soft. Add the sprigs of thyme then the hydrated mushrooms and their soaking water. Leave to cook, on a low heat, for a good 20 minutes.
To make the vegetable pappardelle, peel the carrots and parsnips then, using a vegetable peeler, shave them into long strips. Warm the butter in a shallow pan, add the strips of carrot and parsnip and let them cook for 7-10 minutes, until tender but not soft. Season with salt, pepper and the chopped parsley.
Stir the mascarpone into the ragout and check the seasoning. Pile the tangle of vegetables on to warm plates or in shallow bowls, spoon the mushroom ragout on top, and serve. Reported by guardian.co.uk 2 days ago.
If ever there was magic in my kitchen cupboard it is in the jar of dried mushrooms, porcini or perhaps tiny chanterelles; the jar that sees light of day less often than it should. No ingredient could look less promising and yet, when brought to life by a 10-minute soak in warm water, those little funghi have much to offer.
Slices of dried porcini are expensive. You can expect to pay about £3 for a 30g jar. But they are as light as a feather, and you need only a few to produce a broth that is deep, rich and intense. Quicker and less salty than most dried bouillons, the clear stock they produce is the very essence of the forest floor. A glowing bronze liquor that can be used in a risotto with thyme and butter, or as a pure, bright soup, whose amber depths will nourish us on a frosty night.
I keep a jar of porcini in the house for adding to workaday chestnut mushrooms, lending a woodsy character. They need about 10 minutes to rehydrate in warm or boiling water. A little longer if you use cold. A pinch will add weight to a chicken stock or charm to a mushroom tart or ragout. The other day I made a deep and rich mushroom stock with porcini and chanterelles, using the slices of dried porcini for backbone and adding the delicate chanterelles towards the end. I finished it with a herb oil, little emerald-green pools of olive oil and dill.
Occasionally, I use dried mushrooms on their own, as stars in their own right. Or I make the aforementioned risotto, but with a little taleggio or a spoonful of Vacherin stirred in. It's a mistake to make a risotto with only mushroom stock – it needs some chicken in there, too, for the correct consistency and to tame the powerful porcini.
A few pieces of dried mushroom are probably at their most useful when commandeered to beef up anything in which you have used the fresh variety. They are also a source of treasure when tucked into a pork, chicken or beef stew, working with the vegetables and aromatics to give a mysterious and elusive backnote. But that is what they do, these quiet, unassuming little ingredients. Sitting at the back of the cupboard, waiting for someone to release to their magic.
*Dried mushroom broth with herb oil
*
You can make this clear, warming soup with porcini pieces alone. I added chanterelles, too, but they are not essential.
Serves 2-3
*dried porcini* 20g
*dried chanterelles* 15g
*warm water* 1 litre
*shallots* 3
*olive oil* a generous 100ml
*dill* a good handful
*rye bread* to serve
Put the dried mushrooms into small bowls, keeping them separate, and divide the warm water equally between them.
Peel and roughly chop the shallots. Warm a little of the oil in a large deep pan, add the shallots and cook them over a moderate heat for 10-15 minutes until they are soft and pale gold.
Add the mushrooms and their water to the pan and bring to the boil. Lower the heat and let the mushrooms and onions simmer for 15-20 minutes.
Pour the rest of the olive oil into a blender or food processor, add the dill and process for a few seconds until you have a brilliant green oil. Season the soup with salt and pepper and ladle into deep bowls. Pour a trickle of the oil over the surface of the soup. Serve with the rye bread.
*Mushroom ragout and root vegetable pappardelle
*
You could use celeriac or kohlrabi instead of the parsnip if you wish – the point is to have a tangle of sweet and earthy roots to accompany the mushrooms. You could use pasta instead. A wide one like pappardelle will be most suitable. The amount of mascarpone is up to you. I didn't want anything too creamy, so just used a couple of spoonfuls. You could use double cream if you prefer.
Serves 2
*dried chanterelles* 15g
*field mushrooms* 4, medium sized
*chestnut mushrooms* 4
*garlic *1 clove
*olive oil* 5 tbsp
*thyme* about 8 small sprigs
*mascarpone* 2 heaped tbsp
For the vegetable pappardelle:
*carrots* 2 large
*parsnips* 2 large
*butter* 40g
*parsley* 2 tbsp, finely chopped
Put the dried mushrooms into a bowl, pour enough boiling warm water over them to cover and leave for 10 minutes, until rehydrated.
Cut the field mushrooms into small cubes and the chestnut mushrooms into slices or quarters. Peel and crush the garlic. Warm the oil in a casserole, add the garlic and then, as it begins to soften, the field mushrooms. Let them cook over a moderate heat for about 10 minutes, until they are dark and soft. Add the sprigs of thyme then the hydrated mushrooms and their soaking water. Leave to cook, on a low heat, for a good 20 minutes.
To make the vegetable pappardelle, peel the carrots and parsnips then, using a vegetable peeler, shave them into long strips. Warm the butter in a shallow pan, add the strips of carrot and parsnip and let them cook for 7-10 minutes, until tender but not soft. Season with salt, pepper and the chopped parsley.
Stir the mascarpone into the ragout and check the seasoning. Pile the tangle of vegetables on to warm plates or in shallow bowls, spoon the mushroom ragout on top, and serve. Reported by guardian.co.uk 2 days ago.